Alone
by Readergirl24
Summary: He'd never even thought about what it would be like, what his life would be without her. But now that she wasn't there, it changed everything. T for sadness, character death. Skate oneshot, please review!x


Alone

**Disclaimer: I don't own Lost.**

**About: He'd never even thought about what it would be like, what his life would be without her. (AU). By the way, to understand the story, note that some paragraphs are in italics, some aren't. You'll hopefully learn the difference by the end . Set after the episode 'the long con'.**

Every day that passed was a nightmare. Every time he slept, he experienced the horrors of the night, like the old times. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw it. Again, and again. The scene replayed in his head, stayed with him, like the letter. When someone spoke to him, it wasn't the same. It never was.

"_Hey, Sawyer." He smiled slightly to himself when he heard her. He turned to look at her, cocking his head to one side slightly. _

"_Hey there, Freckles. There a reason you've been followin' me for the past half hour? Or am I just that irresistible that you wanna be near me all the time?" He finished speaking with a smirk on his face, knowing that with most girls, that smirk would melt their hearts. But not Freckles. _

"_No, Sawyer, I have a reason." She sounded angry, like she was not in the mood for his flirtatious jokes. "I need a gun." Of course she did. She was probably going on some adventure with the Doc. He had two options. He could just give it to her…but what would be the fun in that?_

"_Well, Freckles, you know the rules. I give you a gun, but you gotta tell me why you need it."_

Sawyer stared at the words in the book, unable to read further. The memory was overtaking him again, burning into him like a hot poker. He was so close to just standing up and walking away. Walking into the sea, letting the salty water take his terrifying memories, letting the ever-lasting ocean take him too.

No one ever looked at him the same anymore. He'd always been the odd one out, the one to look at with a glare and a whisper. He missed the way people would shoot daggers at him. Because now, they looked at him in a different way. They looked at him with sympathy, with pity. And he hated it.

The terror was fighting its way through his body, slowly enveloping him in an unescapable life of darkness and horror. He didn't understand the way his own mind worked. He'd never let the death of his parents overtake him. No, for that, he'd made sure he got revenge. But he hadn't even been able to do that. Not yet, anyway. But the memory of what had happened, it was killing him, it was…no. He had to stop letting it overtake him, before it got to his heart. Of course, the thing that had been in his heart was gone, leaving him with a damaged heart, a damaged life. Like he wasn't broken enough already.

_She rolled her eyes, for she had known that this was coming. Sighing, she took a step towards him. _

"_Just give me a gun." She said, with what she hoped was a menacing voice. "Please" She added on the end, hoping he would give in to her. Unlikely, but not impossible. _

"_Look, Freckles, I don't wanna start an argument or anythin' with ya. Already got myself in trouble with Jacko, and let's face it…most of the camp hates me now, right? But if you want a gun, all you've gotta do it tell me why you want it." Kate shook her head angrily, trying not to yell at him. _

"_Sawyer, I really do think you want people to hate you. Firstly you get the guns, and now you won't even give them to people? That's not fair play, Sawyer, that's being selfish." She turned and walked off angrily, not noticing the obvious wire that lay before her._

He watched as Jack argued with Hurley about something. Jack had reacted so differently to how he had. Jack had shown his emotions, his feelings, and he wasn't afraid to hide them. Sawyer hadn't comforted him; he hadn't stood by him or talked to him. People would talk to Jack; they'd comfort him and tell him it was going to be ok. But with him, they'd just cast a worried eye over him, and watch him from afar. He hadn't talked to a single soul since that day, and he didn't intend to anytime soon.

He glanced up at the sky, watching as one cloud drifted away from another. The ocean sky tore them apart, seeping through the gaps until the two clouds were far apart from each other. This was his story. Two similar souls that were torn apart, the cruel island killing them both in different ways. Every day that went past reminded him of her, and every night was worse.

Someone yelled his name, and he shook his head to get rid of the memories. If only it was that easy, getting rid of his guilt, his past horrors.

"Hey, Sawyer?" It was Hurley, approaching him cautiously. No one had talked to him since it had happened, so it was a shock to see that people still acknowledged his existence. Hurley finally reached his tent, and stood before him uneasily, shifting his feet nervously. "Can I, um, have a gun?" It felt like a blade had gone through his skin, leaving a trail of blood behind. The words she had said were being repeated before him. It hurt too much to even think about, how those were some of the last words she'd ever said.

He gestured towards his tent, not bothering to speak. He didn't have the energy to argue, to even ask why he wanted one. Hurley nodded his appreciation, and went into his tent, emerging with a gun only seconds later. The memory was coming back again, and Sawyer didn't have the power to stop it from wrapping itself round his brain, filling his mind until only the memory remained in his thoughts.

_It had happened so fast, too fast to stop. Sawyer was about to go after her, maybe negotiate with her about giving her a gun. She was heading the wrong way anyway, heading into the jungle, not out of it. He was going to call out, maybe call her real name to get her attention. _

He stood up, heading to where all the graves were. He stopped before one, and put something down on the ground. He knelt by the grave, taking his time to say what he needed to say.

_But it was too late. Too late to stop it from happening, too late to save her. She'd gasped audibly, but the sound was only in the air for half a second, before a much larger sound took its place. The light lit up the sky, bursting through the sheet of blue paper and reaching towards Heaven. Everyone saw it, but he was closest. People at the beach looked up with surprise, wondering what had caused the sound. People at the caves were closer, but not as close as he was. He saw the whole thing. _

_He yelled her name as loud as he could, but he knew there would be no reply. The explosion died down, leaving a splatter of fallen trees, a hole in the ground and a broken heart. _

He sat by the grave for an hour, speaking aloud to the ground, to the mound of dirt which rested upon the body. He didn't look up as someone came to put some flowers down, didn't notice the darkness which was flooding the sky. All he was aware of was how it had been his fault; how he was the reason she was dead.

_He ran forward, already knowing what he was going to see. He stumbled forward, staggering as he saw the damage. He couldn't speak. He couldn't breathe. But he could see. And he saw. Saw her limp body lying on top of an oak tree, and he saw the blood. The blood splattered across her face, and down the right side of her body. He knelt down, taking her body, and accepting the guilt that would stay with him forever._

"I'm sorry." The words came out of him so smoothly, even though it had been so difficult to say them. Not because he didn't want to, but because it reminded him of her. It reminded him of when she'd come to him, after he'd got the guns. When he'd told her it was a good thing she didn't hate him. As she'd walked away, he'd muttered those words, knowing she'd never hear them.

"I'm sorry for everything. Not just for your death. I'm sorry for not giving you a gun. I'm sorry for not telling you how much you meant to me. How important it was that I kept you from getting close to me. We could've had a relationship, maybe. Maybe we would have stayed friends. But it doesn't matter, because you're gone, and I'm still here. And I wish I could've told you how you affected me like no one else ever has, or will. I want to hold you, to whisper in your ear that it's going to be ok. But I can't, and I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry, Freckles."

He left the airplane on the grave, letting it sink slowly into the muddy dirt. He didn't go back to his tent. He couldn't. Not yet. He walked away from camp, down the golden shore, letting the guilt take over him once more. He shouldn't let the memory take over him like this, but it was too hard. Because now he was truly alone, and his life would never be the same.


End file.
